


The Captain's Punishment

by zetsubou_hana (Sakura_no_Miko)



Series: How James T. Kirk Became Captain of the ISS Enterprise [1]
Category: Star Trek (2009)
Genre: BDSM, Character Death, Darkfic, F/M, M/M, Mirror Universe, Sexual Slavery, Slavery, Smut, Threesome
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-11-01
Updated: 2009-11-01
Packaged: 2017-10-12 02:51:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,708
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/119963
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sakura_no_Miko/pseuds/zetsubou_hana
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Admiral Pike is not pleased with his slaves after they cause a minor diplomatic incident. Time for some punishment.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Captain's Punishment

**Author's Note:**

>   
>  Fandom: Star Trek XI's Mirror Universe (somewhat based on the TOS mirror universe)  
> Pairing: Captain Pike / Jim Kirk / Pavel Chekov, past Captain Pike / Number One  
> Rating: NC-17  
> Warnings: mirror universe, threesome, toys, general BDSM vibes, slavery, violence, references to a minor character death, slash, previous het, explicit sex  
> Disclaimer: I do not own Star Trek or any of its characters. I make no profit from this fan-work.  
> Author's notes: This fic is affectionately known as "the porn that gained a plot." It started when some awesome Pike prompts led me to post [this prompt](http://community.livejournal.com/st_xi_kink/8893.html?thread=27710653#t27710653/) to the kink meme. In short, Pike being a badass master, punishing his two slaves, one of whom is Kirk.  
> And, as often happens with my meme prompts, I suddenly found myself starting to develop a short scene. At the time, I was neck-deep in my massive gen fic, _A Glimpse Into the Future (Past)_ , so I thought writing a bit of porn would be a great way of relieving stress and writer's block.  
> Then, one day, I thought, hey, instead of it being an AU, what if it took place in the mirror universe? And what if Jim eventually became captain anyway? Oh, it'll be easy. It's not like we know what Kirk was doing before he became captain, anyway. Just a little wink-wink, nudge-nudge reference at the end or something.  
> But the more I thought about it, the more it started making sense. next thing I know, I'm sketching out the full history of all the nu!mirror characters and working in every bit of canon I can think off.  
> So now I have four stories and two side-stories mapped out. Way to go, self.

  
Admiral Pike was not pleased.

His clothing reeked of foreign blood and he had beaten and nearly broken his fists on the face of a pompous Klingon delegate with foul breath before shoving a knife into his heart. This was not how negotiations were supposed to go.

He spit, rubbing a finger along a torn lip and bruised jaw. Filthy, violent mongrels.

He opened the doors to his quarters, and all the anger melted away as he caught sight of his beautiful slaves. His older one, Jim, had his younger, Pavel, stretched out against the bed, back arching up as Jim nibbled at his naked throat. Both of them were naked from the top up, except for their collars — the steel grey of ships splattered with bright blood red, Pike's colors — hanging low between their chests and throats, just above their collarbones. Most slaves wore the traditional neck collars, but Pike had found he just couldn't bear to cover up those delicate, pale throats. They were too delicious to play with, to squeeze, to mar with bruises.

Pavel was laid out flat along the bed. "Jim," he whimpered. "Was bad…"

"Shh, it's alright," Jim whispered back. "Lemme…" He stroked the younger boy's curls comfortingly.

Jim was stretched out languidly, like a cat, licking and biting Pavel. As Pike walked towards them, Jim's head perked up, and he looked up, grinning seductively. It wasn't hard to imagine twitching ears, and a tail moving in long, slow strokes across the bed. Such a pity that genetic modifications tended to kill the slaves more often than not.

It was even more of a pity he'd have to wipe that grin off Jim's face. Pike smiled, and grabbed Jim up by his collar.

"What the hell?" Jim yelped, eyes narrowing. Behind them, Pavel had snapped out of his pleasure-sunken daze to look at them with worried eyes.

"You struck Captain Kor." It was not a question. "You, _slave_ , physically assaulted a visiting dignitary involved in our treaty negotiations."

Jim glared right back at him, but made no move to escape. "The Captain was getting a little too free with his hands. On your _property_ ," he nearly spat.

"You could have dealt with it." You always have, was the unspoken rebuke.

Jim didn't respond. Pike had long ago learned that Jim never held back his tongue, slave or not. His eyes flickered to the other slave. Pavel was looking away, biting his lip.

Ah, so that was it.

"Pavel, what did the Captain do to you?" Pike asked sternly. "And don't look at Jim for answers."

" 'e, 'e…" Pavel stammered. " 'E did zis, sir." The boy's slender hands caressed the flesh between his legs, running over the rough fabric of his pants.

"And? What else?" Jim wasn't stupid. Impulsive, but never stupid. He wouldn't have resorted to violence over a simple grope.

Pavel grimaced again, but obediently slid his hands into his pants, and started to undo the clasps holding the fabric together.

"He was doing more than that!" Jim interjected. "I saw him trying to drag Pavel off into the back rooms."

"You could have stopped him without hurting him that badly." Pike was lying, and Jim probably knew it. But he couldn't let Jim do as he pleased, without his knowledge or consent. Jim didn't understand, but Pike was trying his damndest to protect the two of them. But of course Jim never made it easy.

"I didn't know Pavel's ass was part of the negotiations." Jim was nearly livid, and the sex-flush that was gracing his skin was turning into the blustery red of anger. Jim's hands darted forward to brush Pike's bruised cheek. "How'd they go, anyway?" he asked cheekily, as if the blood and the bruises hadn't made the outcome abundantly clear.

Pike allowed himself the flicker of a smile, and he could still taste the blood from his lip. "Captain Kor no longer has a hand to lay on either of you."

Jim whooped, and that devilish grin came back. "Was it the sword?" he murmured, leaning up to throw his arms around Pike and whisper in his ear. "Tell me you used your sword. That big, long, sharp one…oh, you could do it in one good, hard slash with that one." Jim's hands curled around the imaginary sword, but coupled with those innuendo-laden words rolling off of Jim's red lips, Pike couldn't rid himself of the image of Jim groping something much more interesting in those long fingers.

Pike leaned down to kiss that open, red mouth, and Jim surged up against him, all that young, hot flesh throbbing against his old bones. The soft scratch of hair of Jim's body, the throb of his blood and arousal, the taste of his breath and the husky rasp of his voice made Pike shiver. He looked down at Jim's face and murmured against his lips, "You're still being punished."

"Punished for what, old man?" Jim pulled back, angry and lusty, with neither side winning out.

"Assaulting a delegate."

"But…!" Jim complained.

"No 'buts.' You are still my slaves, and my responsibility to train. I'll see that this doesn't happen again." A plan was starting to form in his mind. "Pavel, come over here." The boy got up, took a step forward, and nearly tripped. His pants were still half-undone. Pike extended his arm and pulled the boy close, used his tongue to open up the boy's mouth and feel that young body tremble. "Back to what you were doing before, both of you," he ordered as the kiss broke, barely hiding his own breathlessness. "But without the rest of your clothes."

"Perverted old man," Jim teased, shucking off his pants in one smooth move. Pavel was slower, shyer, letting the fabric slide down his legs and stepping out of them with delicate steps. "C'mere, Pavel."

He started to pull the small boy close, but Pike interrupted, shaking his head. "On the bed."

Jim arched an eyebrow at him, but complied. He pushed Pavel back onto the bed. Curls of his hair fell against the white pillow, and he stretched out languidly, his eyes darting between Jim in his immediate vision and Pike further behind.

"Your leg, Jim. Between his."

Jim grinned, immediately understanding. "Give me a kiss." He leaned over Pavel's nude body, attacking the boy's lips and maneuvering one long, powerful thigh between the boy's spread legs, rubbing the half-hard cock. Pavel threw one arm around Jim's back, and wrapped his legs around Jim's hips, rocking up against him with a low moan.

"I like zis," he murmured, as Jim attacked his neck again.

"I bet you do."

Pike had always enjoyed seeing Pavel spread out on the bed. If Jim brought to mind twitching ears and a tail, Pavel summoned up the idea of wings. He always looked innocent, no matter how much semen and sweat glistened on his skin, or how red his mouth had turned from kissing and sucking. Even if you walked in one him splattered in fresh blood, knife still in hand, smiling over a newly-dead body, you couldn't believe he'd done it. Not this boy with cherubic curls, and a pale, hairless body that gave him a soft, young look, the kind that made him and Jim want to devour the boy right up. Oh, yes, the boy could have wings, big feathery ones that fluttered every time he gasped and trembled, spreading soft feathers into the air, curling up to tickle his lover's back like a second pair of hands. Sensitive enough to make him squall and cower in agony if you grabbed them to roughly — grabbed those thin, oh-so-breakable bird bones — or cut them off.

He would have been wasted in the brothel they'd found him in, torn apart in mere months, if not weeks. Pike felt a stab of irrational anger. If they had found the boy as a virgin, it could have been incredible. As it was, it was merely amazing.

Still, he appreciated that the boy was less rambunctious than Jim. He was quiet, both from the training drilled into him before, and the fact that he still found himself unable to speak much Standard. He happily chattered on in his own tongue, whatever that was; screamed it, begged in it, whispered words punctuated with hot puffs of breath and little licks along their ears.

"Oh, da, da!" Pavel moaned suddenly, surging up against Jim, rocking his hips up slowly, undulating and arching his back. Jim's fingers were teasing stiff nipples, and he pinned Pavel down, leaving him to struggle helplessly against the bed. "Jim," Pavel whined, rubbing against Jim's leg, squeezing his own thighs around it, trying to push them together closer and harder. Jim had moved down to suck and bite at his chest, now, and Pavel was straining, his eyes going dark and wet with exertion.

Slowly, his movements began to falter, and Pavel went limp. He hadn't cried out, and Pike could see he was still hard, making a glistening wet spot on Jim's leg. Jim began to rub against him more harshly, trying to make him respond again. Pavel bit back his moans of pleasure, and unwrapped his legs from behind Jim. Jim was still pushing forward, and Pavel was moving, maneuvering, until he was able to swing one of legs under Jim's mid-thrust. He pushed up before Jim had a chance to react, crushing his hard cock against Jim's, making Jim cry out in surprise and pleasure.

Clever little Pavel. He couldn't speak, but if you gave him a strong of numbers, a complex mathematical equation or a computer set to hack the security code of a high-ranking official, he was able to complete it without blinking, happily chattering to himself the entire time and looking up at them with a happy expression on his face, like a pet looking to be rewarded.

"Oh, God, that's good," Jim whispered harshly, as Pavel writhed under him, thrusting and rocking. "You gorgeous creature," he muttered, threading his fingers into Chekov's hair, bruising his with rough kisses. Pike could practically hear their teeth clatter, and the wet slurping noises of their tongues were obscene.

Still, Pavel looked deliciously innocent, and pliant: a toy to be played with, dirtied, debauched. Jim, on the other hand, was grinning far too broadly, showing off rows of white teeth, his face twisting in anger and pleasure. If Pavel was the angel, Jim was a demon, seductive and lustful. An incubus, comfortable with sex in any shape or form, so long as it happened often. To say he fed on the power and the pleasure was an understatement.

Their lean, young bodies writhed on top of the bed, playful and sexual, reminding him of young pups in heat. Innocent and insatiable. His hand rubbed against his cock. Dirty old man, indeed, admiring those firm asses and hard cocks, enjoying their pleasurable torment.

Pike removed his shirt gingerly, aware of forming bruises and a nasty cut on his back that had only started to scab over. It would bleed again before the night was over, torn back open by grasping hands and straining muscles, but he couldn't bring himself to care. Jim and Pavel had started to calm down again, trading in the rough, desperate thrusts for slow grinding. It made it easier to lean behind Jim, to place soft kisses against his shoulder, to lean in and whisper, just loud enough to be heard over their panting breaths, "Don't you dare come. This is punishment, remember?"

"Aye aye, Sir." Jim's smart remark was punctuated with a gasp from Pavel as Jim thrust particularly hard. Pike let a hand slowly drift over Jim's back, slick with sweat, feeling Jim's blood and bone and flesh. His slave had a particularly gorgeous ass, firm enough to squeeze and slap, but exquisitely soft when it was flush against his groin, spread wide and open for fucking. His fingers bumped over little scars — the long lashes of a whip, ridges of a knife wound sewing itself back together, little craters of phaser burn — dozens of them, a testament to Jim's resilience.

"Keep going," Pike rasped. He was still leaning over Jim, barely grinding his own erection against Jim's ass, drinking in the delicious sounds his two slaves made as they humped like a pair of mating beasts. Pavel's voice was slowly rising higher and higher, and Jim was reduced to grunts and growls.

Pike was nothing if not kind. He reached between his slaves' bodies and squeezed their hard cocks together, making both of them gasp. He smoothed a thumb over the tips, wet with fluid.

"Sadist!" Jim accused, biting his lip.

Pavel just whimpered.

Pike was stroking them, rough and hard, painful and pleasurable. They couldn't come with him squeezing so hard, but they couldn't stop moving their hips, either. "Have I not," he asked, leaning forward, so his chest was flush against Jim's back, "sufficiently informed you that you need to be taught a lesson? This is, and has always been" — he let the word burst against Jim's ear — "punishment."

"Then why," Jim gasped, "are you punishing Pavel, too?"

Pike smiled. "Good point. Pavel, would you like to come?"

The boy looked up at him, his hair wet and stuck across his face, his cheeks red, his breaths hard. "Am fine," he said breathily. His eyes flickered towards the wall, but he forced himself to look back at Pike and Jim. "Was me. Was my wrong."

"No," Jim hissed. "Don't you dare say that!" Pavel shrank back, trying to make himself small against the pillows.

Pike instinctively moved a hand towards Pavel's face — a hand that had, until a moment ago, been busy torturing them so sweetly — and Pavel practically nuzzled against it. Pike could feel the intake of breath, how Pavel was practically sucking in the scent of sex from his palm, and the tentative lick of his tongue from wrist to fingertip.

Pavel would be the death of him. It would be a glorious end, to have his heart burst in a red rainbow as he fucked the young boy senseless.

"Not your fault," Pike said, and it's as close to being gentle as he'll ever get. He untangled himself from Jim enough to lean down and ravage Pavel's mouth, and then Jim's leaned down too, smashing three sets of lips together. One of Pavel's hands grabbed at his back —Pike choked back the pain of his injuries — and from Jim's moan, he suspected the other hand was similarly occupied with Jim's body. Jim leaned over to kiss Pavel's ears, muttering something Pike couldn't make out, but the boy nodded, and Jim smiled.

The three of them kissed again, and Chekov's hand wandered down to Pike's groin. He gave a shy smile, and started to undo the fastenings. Jim had snaked up, behind Pike, and wrapped himself against Pike's side. Pike could feel him, hot and hard, rutting against him, and for a moment, he forgot the rebuke on his tongue. "Jim," he said warningly, but Pavel's hand grazed his cheek, urging him to turn back the other way, away from Jim.

"Please," Pavel whispered, and swallowed, the small bump of his Adam's apple bobbing. "Iz good, iz so good."

"Come on, Pike," Jim whispered. "Don't make Pavel suffer like this. Fuck him. Fuck us. You know you want to."

He wanted to. Hell yes he wanted to.

But his instincts yelled at him that something was wrong, and he had learned to trust those instincts with his life.

"Stop," he said tersely, though Pavel's hand was still insistently groping him, trying to distract him. "Pavel, stop," he ordered, and when Pavel looked guiltily at Jim, and not him, his suspicions were confirmed. Clever Pavel. They were both playing him.

"Is this your way of trying to get out of punishment, Jim? Using Pavel to seduce me? You've just made it that much worse for yourself."

"Actually, it was Pavel's idea," Jim replied flippantly. Some times, Pike just wanted to beat him, turn him red and black and blue until he couldn't move. He had spanked Jim, a few times, before the boy started to enjoy it. Jim claimed that masochism was the best defense in their world. No one could hurt you if you enjoyed it. And Pike was rapidly running out of ways to hurt him that wouldn't also scar, maim, or kill him. Well, perhaps a few well-placed scars wouldn't look so bad…

He looked at Pavel instead. The boy's hands were clutching at the sheets, his cock red and needy against his stomach. He was struggling, grimacing, trying not to touch himself. And Jim, Jim's expression was sheepish, but unrepentant. "Pavel, go and get the rings," Pike orders, without taking his eyes off Jim. "And the harnesses. Now."

Pavel scampered up, walking awkwardly, but he feared and respected Pike enough to agree. Jim, on the other hand…

 _Pike remember the day he'd found the boy at a dirty marketplace on Romulus. The slaver had kicked him, knocked him down to the ground, and whipped him, trying to make an example of the rebellious teenager. "My name is Tiberius!" Jim had snarled, grabbing hold of the whip, even as it sliced into his arm and hand, and smashing a hand into the slaver's face._

Pike had known good men in his life. Powerful men. Clever men. Men whose lives had not deserved to end the way they did, through treachery or warfare. Men like Robau. Men like Kirk. This boy had that same spark in his eyes.

He'd bought the boy, bargaining down after the boy's obvious display of disobedience. When they'd brought Jim to him, bleeding and broken, he'd been simple in his offer. "You're mine, now. Give me your obedience, and I will treat you well. You'll be cared for in every way." He'd paused. "And the only payment is your body."

Jim had actually laughed. "You say that like it's a bad thing. Food, a place to sleep, and free sex? I think you're getting the worst part of the deal."

That night, he'd tasted Jim's body for the first time, letting the boy ride him, eager and violent. Catching the edge of Jim's knife with a pillow before it stabbed his heart only made his orgasm that much better. Jim seemed to respect him more after that, though it didn't stop him from occasionally trying again. Some questionable drugs leaked into his wine (harmless aphrodisiacs, as it turned out), the slightest bit of hesitation to save him when an enemy weapon was trained on his head (giving Jim just enough time to kill the assailant himself), a phaser shot aimed at his groin (it missed) — these were Jim's kind of games.

Three weeks later, Pike had only wrangled out only the most basic information: his name was Tiberius, but his mother had also named him James, and only his friends could call him Jim. He had no friends. His mother was long dead, and he never knew his father. It was safer that way. He'd been born on the Romulan homeworld after a spacecraft accident, but he was human. He didn't know how old he was in any measurable way.

George Kirk had died near Romulus, years ago. So had hundreds of other soldiers. So who could know where this extraordinary boy had come from?

Jim was brilliant in combat, brilliant in his studies, and brilliant in bed. He was invaluable at gathering information on all the delegates who filtered through Pike's home, with sharp ears and a seductive manner that granted him intimate information of all kinds.

For the most part, Pike treated him as a companion. He'd had more domesticated slaves in the past, and their simpering disgusted him. Jim, it seemed, was content to be his slave more in name than duty, watching silently and grinning at things no one else could understand.

Then there were moments like this, when his true colors showed. Proud. Manipulative. Subservient to no one.

In another life, Jim might have been as powerful a man as Pike was. It was only happenstance that had led them to very different stations in life. If circumstances could change…

But right now, none of that mattered. Jim was going to remember what Pike's wrath felt like the next time he decided to disobey.

Jim was kneeling on the bed, rocking a little on his knees. Pike had gotten back up, standing, clearing his head of the lust that came so easily when he was with his slaves. It let him tower over Jim in a way that made his cock twitch. He placed two fingers to Jim's lips. "Suck," he ordered. "Or I'll fuck you dry." Jim's mouth twitched, but he opened his red, wet mouth, never taking his eyes off of Pike, defiant to the end. His tongue darted out, licking the pads of Pike's fingers, and he slowly took the digits into his mouth, inch by inch. He sucked. He sucked gently, and harshly; moved his tongue, and kept it still; pushed the saliva around in his mouth and let it drip from the corners of his mouth.

Satisfied, Pike pulled Jim up, and pushed his tongue into Jim's mouth. His wet hand groped Jim's ass, and Jim, always attentive, pulled a leg around Pike's waist, spreading his legs and letting him rub himself right up against the stiff hair and warm, soft skin of Pike's belly. Pike traced the valley between Jim's gorgeous mounds of ass, circling the muscles of his asshole, pressing into that hot, tight hole with wet fingers.

Jim's eyes were wide, tinged a violent, vivid blue that Pike had never seen in another human. They were kissing, fucking with their mouths and fingers, and Jim ate it up, bucking back and forth.

"Sir," Pavel interrupted, and Jim gave Pike a last lick on the cheek before untangling himself. He always swaggered, even when he was erect and blue-balled. Managed to make himself look as if he was the one in charge.

Pike would never be able to break him of it. But that was for the best. Jim wasn't meant to be a slave, but Pike would savor his time with the boy anyway.

Jim had planted himself back on the bed, spreading his legs lewdly. He grabbed one of the golden cock rings from Pavel's hand and muttered, "Not even one diamond? Pike, you cheap bastard," before sliding it up around his cock. He twisted it around, smirking, as if it were no different than admiring a ring on his finger. "Good to go, sir."

Pavel was still holding the other ring in his hand, along with a pair of leather harnesses, each attached at one end to an artificial phallus. He also had a bottle, which he offered mutely towards Pike.

"Pavel, did I tell you to bring the lube?"

Pavel shook his head, suddenly looking worried.

Pike let him stew for a moment, assuming the worst — to be fucked, roughly, violently, without any preparation at all. It would be payback for his part in Jim's schemes to get out of his due punishment. Then he leaned forward and petted the boy across his curly head. "Good boy for remembering," he said.

"Oy, toss it over here, will you, old man?" Jim grumbled. He grabbed one of the harnesses, and licked the dildo suggestively. But once the bottle was in his hands, he poured the stuff liberally over the toy and leaned back, offering Pike a clear view of his fingers pushing the toy inside of him. He gave an exaggerated groan as he eased it in, and once it was fully settled, he pulled up the harness around either sides of his hips, preventing the toy from coming back out.

Jim stood up again, wincing. "Orders, sir?"

Pike looked down at Pavel. His lips were still pink, but not as red as they'd been before. That needed to be rectified, and he'd ignored his own needs for too long. Pike shucked off his pants, and dragged Pavel to the bed with him. He rubbed his palm against the boy's groin, then squeezed the base of his half-hard cock. After a few long strokes, he put the other ring in place, leaving the boy unable to come at all. He sat back against the headboard, and urged the boy down between his legs. "Get him ready Jim," he ordered, and took a breath, allowing himself to drink in the sight of those bright eyes and rosy cheeks disappearing down into his lap.

Pavel had learned that Pike preferred things slow, and torturous. He kissed at Pike's belly, and lower, to the line of dark hair surrounding his groin. Moving down a thigh to lower areas, Pavel ran his tongue along an old scar. At the time, Pike had been extremely displeased when the phaser shot nearly left him lacking his left testicle. Now, though, it had become a favorite spot of Pavel's to kiss at. Jim was never able to look at it without a frown. Guilt, perhaps? Who knew Jim had it in him.

Pavel started to lick at one of his ball sacs, heavy and tight. Pavel's tongue was terribly dynamic, sometimes using lightning-quick, short strokes, and other times, long, languid strokes that bathed every inch of his skin. He opened his mouth, about to take part of the sac inside, and suddenly gasped, pulling away. Jim had leaned in behind him to lick at his ass.

"Jim," Pike warned, "do be careful of just when you decide to start performing anilingus on Pavel."

"Sure thing," Jim breathed, busying his mouth with getting Pavel ready to get fucked. Pike envied him, for a moment. Pavel had a delectable ass, especially after he'd been fucked, all that white semen leaking out between his thighs…

Pavel moaned, but leaned back in, kissing the wrinkled skin, rolling it into his mouth gently. Pike was sensitive there, sensitive enough for it to hurt as much as it pleased him. But Pavel always knew when to pull back, always just a moment before Pike would order him. Pavel took a sobbing breath, bucking a bit against Jim, who had started to open him up with his fingers, long, slow strokes opening him up.

Pike took a moment to grope the boy's face with both of his hands, twisting his fingers against Pavel's damp curls, before urging him upwards. Pavel smiled — a hint of Jim's self-assured smirk had snuck in there — and began to tease Pike's heavy cock.

Pavel was an actor, a performer. Everyone in a brothel had to learn to play their role perfectly. So he knew just how to bat his eyes up at Pike, just how to lay the tip of his pink tongue flat against the head of Pike's cock, just how to let the first drops of white liquid drip onto his lip. He was a masterful craftsman. Didn't matter if he was playing for them or for their enemies.

Beautiful, innocent Pavel. Pike only wished he could trust the brilliant mind behind the cherubic face. He wished he could trust anyone. Jim came close, sometimes. But there had only ever been one person who'd been able to hold Pike's heart in her hands.

But it didn't stop him from enjoying the boy's physical attentions, oh no.

Pike had a sudden flash of inspiration. "Suck me," he ordered Pavel. "Good and deep." The boy looked at him for a moment, trying to decided if Pike was really giving up the teasing he usually enjoyed so much, but complied with the order, and slowly swallowed Pike into his mouth. First tip, then half, then the delicious tightness of Pavel's throat, squeezing instinctually as Pavel fought back his reflex to gag. He leaned deep into Pike's lap, and Pike motioned at Jim to hand him the toy. It was hard, leaning forward over Pavel's bent back, forcing his body to be as flexible as it had when he was younger. He was barely able to hold the toy and position it against Pavel's ass. Jim smirked at him, understanding, and grabbed the toy more firmly. But he didn't push, not until Pike's hand moved. Then, it was their hands, together, pushing the thick piece of plastic into Pavel's tight ass, and when he gasped around Pike's cock, it was heavenly. Dangerous, maybe, but Pike trusted Pavel to withdraw if he truly started to lose control of his throat and teeth.

The thrusts were jerky — the thrust of Pike's hips against Pavel's mouth, the thrust of the toy into his tight ass. Pike's back was starting to ache. Well, he could have Pavel suck him off any time. "Good boy," he said, leaving the toy jammed in Pavel's body. He put a hand against the boy's cheeks, puffy and wet with the exertion of sucking him. "Now suck Jim."

Maybe it was a sign of him getting old, but he found it far more enjoyable to watch Jim's eyes glaze over in agonized pleasure as his red cock disappeared between Pavel's lips, unable to feel anything more than the helpless, ceaseless pleasure of just-about-to-come, and feel Pavel's body shake and squirm as he thrust the hard dildo into him. He could watch the muscles between those gorgeous white ass cheeks forced open, red and swollen, squeezing the hard thing inside him, and remember that delicious feeling of fucking. He found it was taking longer to get himself aroused, longer to reach climax. But Jim and Pavel seemed to relish in taking the time to work him up.

"Pike," Jim whined, drawing out the single syllable into several. "You're killing me here. Let us fuck or something. Anything."

"Punishment," Pike replied, and Jim glared at him. Jim barked out something in a language Pike didn't recognize, and Pavel pulled back. They both turned to face him. When had Jim managed to learn Pavel's language? Pike thought faintly, when the two of them suddenly pushed him back.

Jim's tongue licked his cock, causing the lust to flare up again. Then Pavel — god, Pavel was licking him too. Jim whispered in that foreign tongue again. Tongue. Oh, Jim's tongue was slithering against him and kissing his cock. What were they doing?

Jim's lips pressed against the side of his cock. Pavel's did too. They kissed, trapping his aching flesh between their lips and tongues and teeth. Two tongues darted out, playing with each other, sliding over his cock, tapping the tips together, rubbing the length of each other. For a moment, they kissed each other above his crotch, a few stray drops of saliva fell down, splashing against his hot flesh. He would not allow himself to do something as undignified as begging them to return to his cock. Obviously they weren't viewing this as a sufficient enough deterrent to disobeying him. In fact, if he had to guess, they were almost having fun.

Maybe that had been their goal all along. With Jim, who knew?

They started teasing him again. Jim's mouth pressed against the straining sac as he nuzzled his soft cheek against Pike's cock. Pavel kissed along the other side, little tiny butterfly kisses, then pulled back. Now Jim licked the underside of his cock, pushing it back towards Pavel, then Pavel pushed back to Jim. They played like this, passing his cock between them like candy, or a favorite, beloved toy.

Pike let them do as they wished, occasionally diverting their attentions with a light slap to the ass or thigh, or a rough thrust of the toys inside them. But even he had limits. He wanted to fuck — there was no other way to explain the desire, the raw sense of need and want. It made him feel alive again.

"Jim," he murmured, allowing himself a moment of weakness. The boy smiled up at him, and practically jumped on him, pushing Pike back on the bed like large, heavy cat. "Jim," he said again, as Jim's lips traced his cheek, the edge of his lips, the line of his jaw. Just a moment of this bliss, this innocence, of Jim's body undulating, soft and smooth under his fingers. Just a moment of indulgence and weakness. "You and Pavel first," he whispered against Jim's ear. "Untie yourselves."

The bed was plenty large enough for two or three people, soft and lush, a rare indulgence afforded only to those with a great deal of power, and the strength to defend it. Pavel was leaning on his knees, but Pike motioned him to turn over. He wanted to watch. Pavel lied back in the bed, and Jim kneeled over him, pulling out the toy with a wet pop and Pavel winced, just a little. Lovely. Slowly, teasingly, Jim slipped the ring off, and took a moment to admire his handiwork — all that blushing skin, and that hard cock pointing upwards.

Pike was up, settling behind Jim. "The last bit of your punishment," he said. "You have to make both of us come before you do." Jim was about to make a smart-ass retort, but Pike cut him off with a few fingers thrust into Jim's mouth, rubbing against wet lips. "If you don't satisfy us…" Pike thought for a moment. "I'll restrict you from the libraries for a month."

Jim looked at him with such sudden and clear alarm that Pike was startled. Jim had never reacted to openly before. A weak spot. Delicious.

Instead, he undid the thin straps around Jim's hips, slowly, and loosed the toy. He rocked it inside Jim for a moment, then pulled it out. Hm, him first, or Pavel? He wanted to watch Jim's eyes roll back. Pavel, then.

"Fuck him," he said, pulling off the ring.

"Sure thing," Jim replied breathily, and he was leaning down, spreading Pavel's thighs, as if the boy needed any encouragement. Pavel's arms drew up around Jim's neck, and then — that exquisite moment, where Pavel gasped, going hard and stiff, as Jim pressed inside of him. The feeling Pike would have in just another moment — an eternity away — of opening up the hot, tight muscles, pressing inside, pushing, forcing, begging his way in.

Jim's voice had turned into rasping breathing, and as Pike watched, Pavel's nails dug little bloody crescents across Jim's back, and suddenly Pavel surged up, taking Jim inside him, and sinking his teeth into Jim's neck.

"…sp…spa…si…" Jim's lips moved, but he couldn't form the words. He was blinking back the wetness in his eyes, and Pavel must have been tasting blood. Jim slowly pulled back, then let himself sink back in. Out, in. Pavel's teeth were going deeper with each thrust.

Realization sank in slowly. Of course. In his own way, Pavel was trying to save Jim. Save him the shame of losing before he had even started. It was noble, and Pavel did look beautiful like that, but…

"Harder, Jim," Pike ordered. Pavel's legs were wrapped around Jim's waist, but kept curling upwards, higher, higher, as Chekov pushed his hips up, hanging on for dear life, clinging to Jim as if he would fall to his death, not the bed. He finally let go of Jim's neck, gasping. Pike positioned himself behind Jim, and thrust in, quickly, violently, even as Jim's hips moved faster. Jim groaned in pain, but his hips kept moving.

It felt heavenly, Jim slamming against Pike's own groin, hard enough to break Pike's own cock right off, if that could happen. It hurt. It hurt and it was such a wonderful feeling, hot and tight and sucking him in so nicely.

"Touch yourself, Chekov," Pike ordered, swallowing hard, trying to keep his balance. "For us."

Then fingers moved between his legs, and Pike was reminded of the dangers of a rotating engine, eager to trap some poor fingers, rip them off, maul the hand and arm to pieces if your strayed too close. Jim's thrusts were violent, but Chekov was still hard, and his fingers slipped, fumbled, as he tried to grab hold of his bouncing cock. He finally caught it, jerked once, twice, and let out a shuddering sob. Pretty white stuff splashed onto his belly. Pike let his own mouth nuzzle against the bleeding bite marks Pavel had left, and he squeezed one of Jim's nipples roughly.

Jim didn't come. Good boy, he thought.

Still, that had been twice that Pavel had tried to help Jim. Twice he had placed Jim above Pike's orders.

The words were easy to say. "Sorry, Jim, but I think Pavel was making it a bit too easy for you."

Jim let out a weak groan. His hips were instinctively jerking, shallowly thrusting into Pavel's body.

"Out."

Jim's hands were twisted into the sheets, and he went still for a moment, as if he were paralyzed. But, reluctantly, he pulled out of Pavel. He moaned, a low wail, as the cold air surrounded his erection again. He had probably been very close.

"Good, good," Pike muttered. He breathed deeply, trying to stave off his own pleasure. "Pavel looks so pretty, doesn't he?" Jim made a low noise of assent. Pike steadied himself, and put a hand under Jim's belly. His other hand reached down to dip into the little puddle of white, sticky semen on Pavel's chest. He pulled the fingers back up and traced Jim's mouth with them. God, Jim's lips felt good. Jim licked his lips and Pike's fingers, lightly, even, dare he say it, submissively. Yes, even Jim had limits, and being on the edge for so long had finally burnt him out. Perfect.

"Back on your knees. That should let you keep your hands and mouth to yourself." Pavel turned over, ass in the air and face to the bed. "Now, Jim…" Pike started to say, but Jim was already leaning forward. Pavel's ass was red and raw, and Jim's rubbed his cock against it, pushing back inside. Obscene. "Stay still," he added, before Jim start thrusting again. He leaned forward and squeezed at Pavel's cock, making the boy groan. Too soon to touch it. But that was all part of the punishment, and Pike was starting to suspect that Pavel enjoyed the pain. "Go slowly, Jim. Slowly. Make it last."

Jim made a strangled noise, almost a sob, but mutely nodded. How he loved those books. Real books, some from before the first contact. Pike had amassed them together for his own pleasure, but seeing Jim's unabashed happiness at them — holding them, cradling them, worshipping them — left him far more satisfied.

He wouldn't really do it. After all, the human body would eventually reach its breaking point. But he wouldn't tell Jim that.

Pike grabbed Jim's hips, slowly pushing into him, pressing as far in as he could go and waiting — just for a moment — before sliding slowly back out. Long and slow and utter torture. Jim mimicked the movement, spearing Pavel beneath him.

Pike grabbed one of the white pillows, and pushed it under Pavel's arched body. It would be scant relief, but Pavel's hips jerked anyways, seeking to clutch even the slightest stimulation closer to his groin.

Jim pushed forward, and Pavel submitted, sinking down against the bed, his legs spread out in a perfect representation of the letter 'm.' Pavel was surprisingly athletic, and wonderfully flexible. He could get his legs nearly flat split out.

From there, it was fucking, Pure, brutal, honest fucking. Pavel, at least, had already come, and Pike's body was taking its time to work itself into a frenzy. Jim, though — Jim was beautiful, like a well-oiled machine, jetting back and forth. He served both their needs, with a hard cock and a tight ass, ignoring his own. Jim could do amazing things when he was properly motivated.

Damnit, Jim was so hot. Not as tight, not anymore, and not as slick. Though he squeezed up so hard when Pike stroked his prostate. It was hard choosing what he wanted more — more of this fucking, this straining and muscles screaming and joints popping and pleasure, pleasure or the last intense burst of orgasm, deep inside his slave's body. It wasn't only the orgasm, no, it was the deep, instinctive feeling of contentment as his body surged forward and emptied itself deep in another being's flesh, marking and claiming it with his seed.

The thought was enough. Jim had been whimpering beneath him long enough. "Enough, Jim," Pike rasped, "enough."

He slammed into Jim's body, once more, and let himself fall into the white-hot bliss of coming, the surge of pure feeling, the intensity of emptying himself, shooting, spraying, expelling whatever it was, all being drawn out of him with such a force he wondered if there would be any of him left afterwards.

He heard Pavel's groan of pleasure, muted by the pillow, as the younger slave came again. So quick to recover. So youthful, Pike thought with a chuckle.

Jim whimpered again, and Pike realized, dimly, that his slave's body was still moving, still jerking back and forth.

"Jim," he croaked. That was unattractive. Sounded weak, and small. "It's enough."

Jim didn't acknowledge him.

"Jim," he tried again, forcing his voice louder. He pressed his fingers to Jim's cheek, and forced his head around as much as he could. Jim's eyes were glossed over.

"Can't," Jim whispered. "…can't," he pleaded again.

"It's fine now," Pike said, and he laid a small kiss at Jim's neck, just above the collar. "Come for me."

Jim made another pained noise. His legs were trembling, about to give out, and now Pike was starting to worry about Pavel, whose cries were starting to sound more like pain than pleasure.

Damn, you pushed him too much, Pike swore at himself. "Jim, I want you to come for me," he said again, gently, as soothingly as he could. "Let it go. Listen to me." Nothing. No response.

Goddamnit. Regroup. Change tactics. Try again. Force your way through, Pike, he told himself. "Obey me, Jim," he whispered harshly, his lips against Jim's ear. One of his hands caressed Jim's chest, before moving upwards, grasping at the collar. It was Jim's one real weakness. He moved a thumb against Jim's throat. "You promised to obey me," Pike tried one last time. "To submit to me, Jim. Submit."

Jim whimpered. Seeing Jim so small, so overwhelmed would have been wonderful if Pike wasn't so unnerved. Pike pressed his thumb into Jim's Adam's apple. "Submit," he hissed again. "Submit. That's all you have to do. Submit."

As if Jim Kirk submitted to anyone. But Pike held on to his thin veneer of mastery.

"Obey me," he said, caressing Jim's lovely throat. Just like that night. The first, and only time Jim had ever bowed to his wishes.

Jim's body was still jerking, like he was being shocked with an electric current. Pike violently pulled him back, practically ripped him out — Pavel cried in pain — and Pike could have sworn he saw Jim nod, slightly, as if to say, yes, please do this.

One of Pike's hands crushed Jim's throat. The other squeezed his rigid cock.

Jim cried out, but the sound was lost in his mouth. And he promptly passed out.

Pike found himself with an armful of limp slave, and crashed down to the bed. That fucking hurt. Him and Jim and Pavel all crushed together, the afterglow disappearing — not even fading, just disappearing, poof, like that — and everything, suddenly, screaming in pain at him and bleeding and bending and…

Fucking Jim couldn't even pass out without causing him trouble.

Pavel had managed to worm his way out, and he stood on trembling legs, off the bed, back safe on the floor. Pike pushed Jim off of him, sprawled out on the wet sheets. He wasn't sure how they'd sleep, not with the bed covered in blood and sweat and come. Let Jim figure it out whenever he got back up. Pike slung a leg over to the cold floor. The shock helped him forget his shoulder, his lip, his heart still racing from fear and adrenaline. They were fine. It was all fine. And if Jim so much as winked at him after this…

"Pavel. Bathroom." He offered an arm to the boy, who was starting to tremble, and they limped to the bathroom. Hot water. That would be godly. Wet washcloths. Dry towels.

He'd modeled his bathroom after some old-styled Terran ones. He had a large tub, off to one side, that he used sometimes when he was particularly in need of relaxation. Otherwise, he used one of the two showerheads. The floor was bare, with a small drain in the middle, leaving nearly the entire room to stretch out in as he bathed.

He spit blood onto the floor. Odd, he hadn't noticed the coppery tang to their kisses. Then again, there hadn't been nearly enough of them. The first burn of the water made him jerk, but the pain felt so good. Jim was right. Masochism healed everything.

Pavel — bless Pavel, he was always so attentive — drew a soapy washcloth over Pike's back, carefully. It stung. "Iz bad," the boy said, his voice rough from crying out so many times. "Needs stitches."

"After," Pike murmured, pressing both his hands into the wall, letting the water pour over his head. Pavel kept washing him, running over his arms, his legs, and finally, he grabbed the boy's hand and pulled him close. For a moment, he could pretend, and forget. Forget everything that had happened, every danger always lurking in the shadows. Pavel was soft, for a boy, but it wasn't the same. He was too small, flat in all the wrong places. Still, for a moment…

He wasn't feeling the heat of the water anymore.

Pike pulled the cloth from Pavel's hands and started roaming over the boy's body. It was sexual and chaste all at once — he was too far gone to get aroused again, and yet there was a simple pleasure to simple feeling the flesh beneath him, the glide of the soap lather under his fingers, and Pavel's small sounds of contentment. He tipped the boy's head up and kissed him, softly.

By the time they broke apart, the water had washed away the white foam, and Pavel murmured, "And Jim?"

Jim, yes. Back to reality. Pavel could be a dream, but Jim always made him remember. He had a purpose. A reason.

Revenge. Pure and simple vengeance.

"Good boy, Pavel," Pike replied absently. He moved, and his shoulder ached. "Patch me up?" There was a chair he could sit on, as Pavel limped outside to grab a medical kit. He shouldn't have kept the boy on his feet, not after a fucking like that, he thought, drawing a white towel over his body and checking for blood. Tiny mistakes. Still, when Pavel got back, his hands were amazingly steady. The bite of the needle was hardly noticeable. There was a sting of cold medicine, and then the cloth of a bandage. Fast, neat, perfect. The bruises and welts were wrapped up as well. Almost too neatly. So unlike what he was used to — torn shirts and spit and tying the cloth so hard it couldn't feel his hands anymore.

Damnit, Pavel deserved better. He deserved someone who could actually care for him, instead of treating him like a pretty, talented whore. Pike didn't love him. No, he saw him as precious, as his possession. A useful tool with a pretty body. If it happened that Pavel became a liability… yes, Pike would kill him. There was no room for sympathy in this world.

Jim. Right, they needed to get back into that bed.

"Do you have anything in there to wake him up?" he asked Pavel.

Pavel dug for a moment, then shook his head. Pike cursed whichever incompetent slave had stocked his med supplies last. "I'll drag him off. You remove the blankets," he ordered.

They walked back out the bedroom, naked and damp. Jim was still sprawled out, bruised and bitten, glistening with sweat and flakes of drying semen. Pike grabbed at him with his one good arm — couldn't go pulling out all of Pavel's work — and pulled at his limp body. Pavel eased back the blanket, pulling at it, until it finally came free at one corner. A mostly-white sheet peeked out, but the blood had seeped through in a few spots. Pike groaned. Dumping Jim back on the bed would ruin the sheets. He could call for the slaves, even at this late hour, to replace everything, but he didn't want to deal with their mindlessness. He was tired, and aching.

This was stupidity. He slapped Jim across the face, and Jim groaned. "Wake up, you useless idiot," Pike muttered. He slapped him again, and even Pavel winced. But Jim's eyes fluttered open, blue and bright, even though they were surrounded by dark circles. "Get up. Go get cleaned up." Jim blinked at him, uncomprehending. "Pavel, get him clean," Pike ordered, and Jim was soon leaning against Pavel's shoulder.

Pike could hear the water splash as he scooped up the blanket and threw it to the floor. "Computer, increase heat 15%," he said. Sheets and two hot bodies would have to do. The pain was starting to hit him. Where was the damned alcohol? Oh, yes, he and Jim had finished it off, not even a week ago. There wasn't anything left, not in his bedroom, at least. Damned Jim, pouring out glass after glass, and that ridiculously sexual idea he'd had of drenching himself in the fermented liquid and have Pike lick it slowly off. It had pooled in his belly button and the triangle of his groin, left his skin tasting of salt and booze and blood.

Fuck it all. He'd just sleep it off, and deal with everything in the morning. The damn bodies splattering his hallways, and the admirals wondering how negotiations went. He'd have to stare at those old, pompous leaders and smile, remembering how they'd smiled at him, smiled, and then painted his ship with her blood, her brains, her beautiful hair…

"Master?" Pavel whispered, startling Pike out of his thoughts.

How much time had passed? Didn't matter. "Bed," Pike said tiredly. He got into the middle, wincing when his shoulder brushed a wet pillow. Ah, where that pillow had been… Pike threw it to the far corner of the room. He laid back, ignoring the pain in his shoulder. Pavel curled in a ball next to him on one side, and he laid an arm along the boy's back. Jim stumbled in on the other side, sprawling out on his stomach, with only his head near Pike's shoulder.

"Pike," Jim muttered, leaning in against Pike's neck. "'m s'ry," he slurred. "I'm sorry," he tried again, blinking, trying to make himself coherent.

"It's fine," Pike muttered. He had his two slaves within arms reach, and it was warm. This was enough to satisfy him — it should have been enough. He drew the sheet up to his hips, barely making himself decent. As if anyone cared.

"Look," Jim said, closing his eyes. Was that regret on his face? "I'm sorry if I made your negotiations fail. I know you'll be in a lot of…trouble," he said, oddly delicate for the usually brash boy. "But he was going after Pavel!"

Here was something he could use. So, Jim thought this was all his fault? Pike let him wait for a moment, then said, in a neutral tone of voice, "Don't worry, Jim. It wasn't your fault at all. Negotiations ended when Captain Kor tried to sink a dagger into me the moment I turned my back. The Empire doesn't need the alliance of cowardly trash like that." He put a hand below Jim's chin. "What I want from you is your obedience. I need to know what you're doing. You understand that, don't you?"

Jim nodded. He was being tame tonight. His eyes were still hazed over, his breaths long and heavy. Of course. He'd been pushed to an orgasm that knocked him out, not even hours ago. "I did promise," he said. "If you really want me to…submit…" The word sounded strange on Jim's tongue, hanging in the air.

"From now on, I'll make it clear that no one is to lay a hand on either of you. No one." Pike allowed himself a small upwards flicker of his lips, an almost-smile. "And if they choose to disobey such a clear warning…I won't be held responsible for the consequences."

Jim's eyes lit up, blinding and electric. His entire manner changed in an instant. One arm swept around Pike's belly, and Jim's body was suddenly languid, liquid against Pike's. "Tell me," he whispered.

"From now on, you have my permission to do anything it takes to protect yourselves," Pike said. "No one but me can touch you."

Jim grinned at him, and then, "Wait. Then why the fuck did you punish us?"

Pike really smiled this time, feeling Jim's arm tense against his chest. Jim was pressing a lightly-closed fist into the pillow next to him, and his grin had turned feral. "Because you were disobeying my orders."

Jim stared at him for a moment, before laughing. "Of course. And now that we have _orders_ to kick some ass, it's perfectly fine."

"You learn quickly, Jim." Pike pressed his lips to Jim's, and let his fingers run against Pavel's back.

"You love all that word play, don't you, _Master_?" Jim's voice was teasing, and damn if it didn't send a thrill through Pike's body.

"You would too. Now, go to sleep." Pike let his head back. Finally, the bliss of sleep…

"Admiral Christopher Pike." The computer blared at him.

Pike didn't care who it was. Death would be swift and unexpected and fucking painful.

"Incoming message from Admiral Komack. Acknowledgement requested."

Pike couldn't keep the black look off of his face, and he feels Jim stir. "No, stay. Pretend to sleep," he mutters. Well, if that bastard was going to interrupt him, he may as well make it worth his while. That uptight old man was probably impotent, if the sneer on his face every time he saw some pretty young thing cross his way meant anything. He never hid the fact that he loathed Pike, loathed him and his openly flaunting his lovers and slaves. He had no idea Pike did it mostly to piss him and the rest of the commanders off.

Pike pushed himself up into a sitting position. Pavel was still curled up. Asleep? Maybe. He nudged the boy's head towards his thigh. He could feel the boy's breaths across his groin. Jim he let crawl under his arm, lying against his chest with one arm around his stomach. He left the sheet low around his hips, tight enough to suggest that he wore nothing underneath. An Orion slaver couldn't make himself the better picture of a man proud to have two sexy young slaves at his beck and call.

As Jim would say, he was one hell of a pimp. Komack would hate him.

Once Pike was sufficiently sure his voice was steady — and of the snub the other admiral was no doubt fuming over — he said, "Call received. Put him through."

The image settled on the wall of his bedroom, projected over the vast space into his own him. Image-Komack's eyes widened, and he scowled. "Pike," he barked, and Pike wanted to smile, to think that this man with so much power called him the same thing Jim did.

"Yes, sir? Your call was…unexpected. I was planning submit my full report of this diplomatic incident by 0800 hours Terran." Submit. Submit, just like Jim, with the fury held close in your heart, Pike told himself. Smile. Smile and think about tearing out his throat.

He thought of the look on Kor's face when Jim's fist smashed his ugly nose in before fleeing with Pavel to the safety of Pike's personal quarters, and the fury Kor directed at him when he chuckled. There it was. A smile.

"We've already heard from the Klingon High Council."

Unsurprising. Being a diplomat (ha!), Kor must have had some sort of sensor array or communicator on him. Something had beeped, just a moment before Kor's knife bit into his shoulder. Just enough warning to save his life.

How ironic.

"Ah," Pike said simply. He'd expected as much.

Pike tried to keep his voice neutral, but his heart was thrumming, remembering the silenced scream of pain as his shoulder was torn, the way he thrown into the wall, and the sweet excitement, the exhilaration of spinning around, punching as hard as he could into that already-bloody face and plunging his knife deep into Kor's body. At his thigh, he'd hidden a bone knife, made from a creature whose name he couldn't pronounce, still full of venom, and completely unrecognized by most weapon detectors. It never left his person, except here, in the bedroom, when he was naked. Not much point to concealing a weapon here, really. Not that kind, anyway.

"Is that all you have to say for yourself?" Komack was nearly frothing at the mouth.

Well, Pike thought, it was awfully pleasant, watching Kor writhe on the ground. Turned out Klingons had awfully strong hearts, and his was still pumping, thrumming that poisoned blood all through his body.

Pike had taken that knife, tossed it back, from hand to hand, a little play, a little…anticipation. Kor's thick neck fit quite well under his steel-toed boots, and his mouth — what a pity, it was paralyzed by the poison already. But his fingers were still twitching, grasping, no — groping for a weapon. Groping. Just like he'd been groping Pavel.

Pike hadn't been lying when he'd told Kirk Kor no longer had a hand to touch them with. It didn't seem right that Kor's hands were the only things left working, not when he used them so badly. Pike had hacked them off slowly, a finger at a time, and then those lovely, blood-filled wrists, until the delegate was lying in a lovely red pool.

Instead, "For all their high talk about superiority in war, their entire representation was wiped out by a single human," Pike said. A moment later, he casually added, "He struck first."

Komack snorted. "Self-defense, then?"

Well, in a manner of speaking. By that point, the two bodyguards were heading his way, breaking down his doors—doors he had bought back on Terra, antique, actual wood doors, those savages. Before Kor's heart had stopped beating he had already aimed for the phaser in the hand of one of the howling bodyguards, throwing his blade with a deadly accuracy his faithful first officer had taught him, on cold night, long ago. The guard howled in rage, unable to keep a firm hold on the weapon, and Pike had kicked him in the face, gaining just enough time to shoot them both.

Actually, that last one never did anything to him. Pike wasn't even sure that one had been armed. Maybe that he would have run, or killed himself, or something. But why take the chance, and lose the pleasure of hearing that familiar buzz, and smelling the leftover odor of disintegrated flesh?

"Sir, it is my opinion that there can be no peace with those savages. It will end in a war whether we like it or not."

"Is that your opinion?" Komack replied in a low voice.

 _Pike knew that voice, the same one that had informed him, as he laid in bed, just like now, with his beloved's body spread out, glistening and wet, next to him, that there was to be one last bit of business before the_ Enterprise's _mission was over. A traitor to the Empire. A spy for the rebel groups._

Eager, still young and stupid and wrung out, he'd asked, who? Whose throat will we slit for betraying the Empire?

There was horror when he realized. When Komack spoke her name. When she — beautiful, dangerous, nameless Number One — looked up at him with the liquid eyes, her hair pooling around her shoulders, cold as ice.

He had taken too many risks, he berated himself, pissed off the admirals too many times, so sure of himself, so unconquerable. Who cared if he died? Who cared about anyone dying? They could do nothing to him.

Oh, but they could.

"It is," Pike said. "Sir," he added.

 _It hadn't started well between them, not at all. She'd tried to kill him, once or twice. He always attracted the dangerous lovers. But she stopped. She didn't want the ship. She never had. And it was so much more — how had she said it — mutually agreeable if they worked together, fucked together, and occasionally helped each other._

Though her competence and cold heart made her seem less than human, the swell of her breasts was still soft beneath his fingers when he kneaded them, and her cunt was still wet for him when he wanted her, or she him. Oh, god, the pleasure of her body, her softness, hot and slick and sucking him in. Her soft, panting breaths, her thighs and legs squeezing his hard body, wrapping around him, drawing his fucking soul out as he came, exhilarated, flying, bonded with her and into her and…

It was fucking beyond fucking, fucking transcendence, nirvana…something he could never put a name to, there, between her legs and buried in her breasts.

And to sleep, even rarely, secure in the knowledge that she was not out for his blood, that she would be there, hot and eager, in the morning — it was enough to make the rest of life bearable, for a while. When he was attacked, it was her hands that shot those perfect little holes into his enemies' foreheads, or threw her knives with stunning, fatal accuracy. When they made someone bleed, it fell onto both their hands. When he smiled, bruised and battered, it was only for her.

Her, a traitor? Not to him. Never to him — well, unless it would save his life, or hers. But those were expected. Those were the sane, logical decisions to make. But to the Empire…? Unlikely. Why risk it? No, Pike thought, these were lies. They were taking her away on some trumped-up charges to punish him.

"It is good, then, that we will no longer be using your services as an ambassador," Komack said, and Pike's blood ran cold.

Was this to be it, then? Finally being sent to join her? Were there assassins here for him already? He'd kill them, knife or no knife.

 _They had killed her to get revenge against him. He'd believed that, known it, as they landed, at the headquarters of the Empire, to drums and screaming brass, to the march of a million feet and the prayers of a million brainwashed citizens._

They paraded her out before the cameras as a traitor, and she, proud, unaffected, had spit in their faces. And, finally, on the bridge of the Enterprise — on their bridge, in their ship — they had made her kneel down, and it was Komack himself who handed Pike the gun, to do the honors.

"Christopher." Her beautiful voice, pleading with him, not to escape, but to save himself.

And he, coward….

He pulled the trigger.

And then, there she was, with shattered, shiny fragments of her skull and all her beautiful, grey brains stained pink with blood, here, all over their bridge. Her. Her. Her.

They'd had to drag him out in chains and gags, pretending he was a maddened ensign, not the illustrious captain, because of his rage, his wounded, animal-like howling.

Eventually, he had decided to play along. He thought he could still hear her — he never told anyone, no, because they would try and remove her. She told him, live. Living is the best and only vengeance you will have. Live for me. Finish it. Please, Christopher.

So he let them have his body, his voice, his face. He played the perfect admiral, and then the perfect ambassador, as if he had never cared about her, as if she were just another nameless face he had killed. And he had slowly eliminated everyone who knew otherwise.

"Am I to be reassigned, then?" Pike asked, and, again, he smiled.

"You're returning to the _Enterprise_ ," Komack said, gritting his teeth.

"It is an honor, sir," Pike said, but inside, his heart was racing. What were they playing at?

 _He'd never coaxed anything out of her about her past, or her amazing abilities. No, all that had come afterwards. She had left it for him, in tiny, encrypted data files, and when Pavel had finally managed to crack them, barely two months ago, it had suddenly all made sense._

She really was inhuman. Half, at least. What he had assumed was simple eidetic memory was far more — it was generational memory, from a species that was now dead. Their power was enormous: every child of that race was born with all of the knowledge of its ancestors. One of their spies had escaped with the Empire's most important secrets, and that was why her people had been wiped out. His beautiful Number One's birth was a miracle, and a curse. A single cell that had escaped from the spy's body, housed in the belly of a human woman who had somehow escaped. How she had survived all these years, he did not know. She was the last of her race. But, there, within her mind, she held it: the hatred and the memory of every man, woman, and child of her world who had died before the Terran Empire.

All this, she had imparted to him. All the destruction, all the lies, all the things that had gone terribly wrong. It was the only part of her he had left, and he was not going to let it die.

She really had been working with the rebel groups. And now he was as well.

To regain control of the _Enterprise_ and all her power, to be free of the constraints of politics and the whims of the Empire — it was a power that he could use to destroy the Empire. But they were watching him so closely now. Too closely. He was being choked from all sides.

"I have a request," he said, trying to sound as detached as possible.

Komack's mouth flicked upwards. "Perhaps we can make an agreement that will fulfill it," he said, smiling disgustingly.

"I want to take my slaves with me."

Komack sneered. "You're going soft, Pike."

"Don't I deserve a little comfort in my old age?" Pike replied back. If they didn't take him seriously, then they'd never suspect.

"We will discuss it. But we also have a few stipulations for you, Pike."

"Name them."

"We have already picked out your first officer."

He had no right to even speak those words. First officer. Pike prayed his face showed nothing. Nothing. Of course, Komack knew. It had been his gun and his smile and him staring when that first, disbelieving moan had tumbled from Pike's mouth. He was trying to get proof, trying to make Pike angry. No. He would give that filth nothing.

"Who?" he asked. Perfectly normal, for a captain to inquire about his most senior officer.

"A Vulcan. You might have known him before. The son of the Ambassador."

Pike knew him. Spock. His reputation preceded him. Ruthless and brilliant, like all Vulcans. The alliance between the Empire and those logic-spouting aliens was tentative, at best, so to have the Ambassador's son on board was useful. He would make a fine hostage if the need arose. Wouldn't it be illogical to let your only son die?

"What else?" Pike prepared himself for the worst.

"You will take the officers we give you."

Of course. Wouldn't want another incident like Number One, now would they? Surround him with spies, loyal to Komack. Tie him up. Kill him, when the need arose.

"Fine. But that's all the more reason to leave me my slaves."

Komack smirked again. "Perhaps. Have your report in by 0600 hours. Komack, out."

Pike let out a breath as the ugly image faded.

"You're taking us with you?" Jim whispered suddenly against his neck.

"I hope to," Pike told him, softening his voice as much as he could. "Go ahead and sleep, Jim."

"Thank you," Jim whispered, and laid himself against Pike's body.

Pike wasn't going to sleep, not now, not with so much to plan. This was more than he could ever have hoped for. Even if the Empire's eyes were on him, they had no idea. No idea. Number One, he thought, wondering if she could hear him. If you could see…

He idly stroked Jim's back, and Pavel's head. He was going to be terribly cruel, to both of them. Pike had allowed them access to anything they wanted, from libraries to shuttlecraft. Jim would not leave him, but if the time ever came when Jim was alone, he would be well-equipped to lead his own life. And Jim could use Pavel's skills to his advantage.

Soon, Pike planned to revise his will. True, in the Empire, a will wasn't worth much, unless the person named was strong enough to take what was his. And it certainly wasn't traditional, what he planned. He was going to give something that, by any standard, wasn't his to give.

But Jim…if anyone in this universe could take it, it was him. Like hell he would let his ship fall into the hands of some sycophant of the Empire.

No. It was going to be Jim's ship. Jim had the strength to do it, if Pike failed. Brilliant, cocky Jim, who was meant for so much more than the life of a slave.

Those fuckers would never know what had hit them.

**Author's Note:**

> Last author's note: Coming up next time: _Ascension, or, How James T. Kirk Became Captain of the ISS Enterprise._ I will finish it some day.  
>  Also, a rec: [A Good Look in the Mirror, by Rabble Rouser.](http://www.fanfiction.net/s/453851/1/A_Good_Look_in_the_Mirror/) It's definitely the fic that's helping shape my mirror universe. [Mirror Valentine by Dana Austin Marsh](http://ksarchive.com/viewstory.php?sid=740) is also a great read, if you're fine with some laughter in your mirror 'verse.


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